In creating the 200+ posts for this personal archeology project, I’ve used all sorts of different tools (analog and digital) to capture the artifacts and ephemera sourced from creations made from other analog and digital tools… Like a recursive mirror looking at yourself – ha! #meta In doing so, to add an extra layer of meta, i’ve documented (some of) the tools used to create original projects.
In this case, a Lomo “La Sardina” sardine can camera – modelled after cameras used for espionage and intrigue by erstwhile spies for clandestine operations – this one, a special cork covered limited edition and uses 35 mm film.
For more fun, i use whatever old crusty expired film i can get my hands on (tip: look at the bottom shelf of dusty old drug stores), and has a battery powered flash with some snap-on filters for weird effects.
Sometimes the film loads rather *incorrectly* so the images get split across two frames, further, a night in a psychedelic Volkswagen bus sauna seems to have melted a lens somewhere to make things even fuzzier – there are a few other tricky features built-in, (by tricky, they’re very simple but create tricks like long or double exposures).
When traveling, tend to stay away from snapping at a lot of pictures and instead feel like a third grade Ansel Adams in that I carefully consider each frame, that said, the results are very different then a master photographer using a large format camera, so really, the point doesn’t stand whatsoever… but what I mean is: I make scrapbooks, paintings, sketches, poems, occasionally some ambient audio recordings and a few digital reference photos when needed but enjoy the fuzzy hazy unpredictable snaps from the 35mm camera… I especially enjoy when the exposed roll of film is lost/ stashed/ possibly forgotten for a period of time and then I need to track down somewhere to develop meaning the results are known months or years after the shutter snap.
The results from this Lomo camera are scattered throughout this archive, specifically from Kerala, India (on Remembrance Day), a train ride through the length of Thailand (co-mingled with poems), collections from Grateful Dead concerts and driving across the US Midwest (time-lapse-ish), oh yeah, Big Cottonwood Canyon and the aforementioned VW bus to Diamond Fork hot springs to Las Vegas.
Dig in for your own amusement, that’s the point. Snap click wind wait.
“Personal Archeology” project heads into the stretch run towards 50 on 16.8.20 / just shy of 200 posts of artifacts > From elementary school report cards to fake IDs, newspaper clippings to folk legends.
I’ll tell you a secret: there’s another 100+ in the “draft/pending“ folders that I didn’t quite finish up to get into the flow so maybe a bonus round in the autumn.
Also, I barely started the deep digging kura grain barn studio stash so really have enough to keep going another 50 years. #goal
Hope you found some interesting evidence of where our lives intersected and/or found some inspiration for digging into your own remarkable past and sharing your story in a unique way.
I’ve had a notion to do a little “musings & tactics for personal storytelling” video / Might get to it eventually but I’m pretty busy kissing a little baby’s head over and over again. If you have questions though, hit me up.
Bad Wougar is/was a hard rocking band in Vancouver BC with four fine gentleman who practised diligently in a room called the “the Den” which I’ve visited several times – occasionally playing some drums, especially extended jams to “Cortez the killer”. The name “Bad Wougar” came from a campfire myth about a dangerous animal which was a mix of a wolf and a cougar.
On a trail walk one day, I recorded a myth about the creature for the bands use and amusement. They then invited me into the glorious brand-new Monarch Studio (which has an origin story to share another time) to record a few snippets from the riff for the songs. In all, my voice/words appear in two tracks on this final release which was distributed on CD with a paper gatefold cover (i have 2, Mac Kobayashi has 1).
For the record, released: February 28, 2014 (noting this was a high point in an otherwise tough tough year). As mentioned, the four members of the band (including a non-related Olson) were each fantastically kind, interesting fellas as well as quality musicians and it’s a privilege to know them.
So it goes, folks have other commitments and adventures in life so they don’t play anymore but I hope this CD/album is more widely distributed in future / Kind of band that would be big in Europe.
… every time I sling this album on the stereo I can’t but feel like I’ve been transported to a wood-panelled backwoods bar where the band are plying their gnarled rock ‘n’ roll trade in such a fashion that the venue’s customers are worried that the whole place will go up in flames, the sounds so incendiary….
There’s a grubby charm to this band and its self-described brand of hard charging rock ‘n’ roll. It’s garage rock by way of the forest and you can’t really ask for anything dirtier, earthier than that.
As the stoner-like riff of final track, ‘Spoke Too Soon’, rattles the fillings out of my teeth I’m left wondering if maybe what I just listened to was part of a crazed fever dream. Then I look up and see the album cover, the eyes of the Bad Wougar appearing to follow my every move…..
This spoken kick off made me realize I was in for a fun ride, just as if I was watching a movie–and I was not disappointed. …
The album itself has a delightfully punk element to it, often mixing with elements of classic and progressive rock. It could have been released in 1984, 1994, 2004, or 2014 and reflected the music of its time period.
Apparently i was telling Stan about my “Dr” Hunter S Thompson Media badge and/or John Stockton also wearing #12 or that we love to cook “Stan’s Mom’s Perogies” from the 1982 Canucks Family cookbook (note to self: share that precious artifact).
Yup, somehow, friends who I *assumed* were pleasantly checking out my little “personal archaeology” project have *no idea* about my endeavor, others are surprised to hear I have a website at all (really)…
Then again, others contact me and say “how’s things at h00tsweet these days?” (Whoa!) or “I’m heading to Lynn Valley, you want to meet up?“
I mean “yeah” but I’ve been gone gone gone so long and now live in Japan #ForeverHome
In other words, the cracks between the boards are some times bigger than the boards #BeYourOwnAlgorithm
Anyhow, just another artifact from #daveo50 daily pre-scheduled series of ephemera, oddities, evidence, miscellanea, media snippets, projects, identification (fake & otherwise)…
More of “the B-sides” rather than “greatest hits” you’ve likely seen.
You’re super smart so you found the goodness.
PS Especially enjoy hearing recollections from folks about when our lives intersected / tip: stick a search term (your name, a project, a place) into the site and see what pops up
Around 2000 in Olympia Washington, my colleagues and I sold a renegade pioneering Internet service provider (OlyWa.net) to an (evidently) evil national corporation (ATG) who quickly imploded allowing me the sensation of losing *big paper money* before i hit 30 – ugh .Anyhow, I managed to put a down-payment on a house – which had a semi-finished basement (and was also stumbling distance to downtown bars) which is the reason for this riff.
The aforementioned basement was rapidly converted into “the Hockey Lounge” a speakeasy/smoke easy/crash space for touring rock ‘n’ roll bands as well as a resource library for Hemp Lobby activities.
As the name applied, this was about watching hockey games as, in Washington state at the time, the sport was not popular and bars were filled with cigarette smoke an early season baseball games instead of pungent herb and Stanley Cup playoffs. The Hockey Lounge rectified these conundrums.
So, with a couple of first generation time-shifting devices, two satellite dishes and a cable feed and other electronics cobble together by brother Dan – who also procured couch, bar, fridge etc. from various auctions – and extensive hockey and punk rock artifacts decorations, a conversion of the fridge into a 2 tap keg-e-rator, the eventual addition of a toilet, wiring the house with ethernet connected to redundant broadband connections (note this was early 2000s) this became the scene of much frivolity.
There were rules:
Wash your glass (everyone had their designated glass which was store in the freezer compartment)
Pay your tab (note beer was always top-end craft from a brewery in exchange for making a website, we were on the regular route for a beer delivery and well let’s just say people drink more than they paid for.
No cell phones, camera etc. / no talking about other shit besides hockey and music
and these rules were not followed very well unfortunately.
Occasionally we would host various contest/pools during the playoffs or Olympics in which everyone would enter with a high-quality six pack (they were sent away and shunned if the quality was not sufficient) and winner would take most, second place slightly more than they pitched in, and third place their ante back.
Several times noted touring rock bands crashed out but most memorable was my hometown heroes DOA, who i sang BTO’s “takin’ care of business” onstage (at 4th Ave Tav) while wearing a Canucks jersey. The band – including now-Burnaby city councillor Joey “Shithead” Keithley, now deceased hard drinking storyteller Randy Rampage and the road manager (who was so happy about the high-speed Internet) and roadie who, years later, i met his brother coincidentally in Granada, Spain – all watched Canucks playoffs time-shifted and told tales into the night, signed my Hardcore 81 album, tidied up after themselves.
Of course, many travelling friends crashed out and enjoyed the space including Maddog Mike of Pacifica who destroyed so much Grand Crü beer and was still up early for his business meeting in Portland, Dane came by too (who i think took these photos), we had a “hippie on the couch” from CT or CO for a long time, others who came by at all hours expecting the place to be open like it was there own clubhouse, some disrespect, some sloppiness, some heat started to outweigh the frivolity. A lot of dishes to wash, but also a lot of fun backyard bocce games.
Of course there was the infamous High Times photo shoot in which many regional growers and vendors came by with copious amounts of wares in hopes of being featured in the magazine. Many were, i was rewarded with a massive mess to clean up and a photo/write up in the article which well… caused some community angst and notoriety (possibly covered elsewhere in this archive).
Epilogue: As it goes, economic situations changed with the *great collapse*, I couldn’t find work in any form, and then domestic situations changed with people moving in, people moving out, various tenants and domestic intrigue, then renters, a sewage flood and then a renovation and what not. [I had tried to finish some college, start a new business and relationship and hard to do all of that i suppose.]
In amongst much of this transition, aforementioned brother Dan became their “sole proprietor” of hockey lounge as it became his apartment. As things descended into malaise, various pieces and parts were sold off for cash to pay the mortgage, eventually the house sold, and I headed north and continued hockey culture with the Canucks Outsider podcast, then Dan later heading north as well to attend UBC engineering school. The Hockey Lounge still lives in the way/spirit at his current abode.
There is scant photographic evidence of this era though the legends live on throughout the streets of Olympia (or so I tell myself) plus at Olympic Plaza in SLC, and oh yeah if you’re reading this pay your fcking tab – this means you!